


My Heart Is Here So I Must Be Home

by impossiblesongs



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, see I can make sappy/happy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblesongs/pseuds/impossiblesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He cannot give her forever but he can give her his heart. Right about now he's very set on offering up two. </i>- It's River's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart Is Here So I Must Be Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
>  **AN:** I rated this mature because um, it's not really explicit sex, at least I don't think. I wanted something soppy and intimate but short and sweet and this is the best I could do. Title from _The Time Traveller's Wife_ by Audrey Niffenegger.

It’s her birthday. Not her first, nor her last, but it’s her birthday and he’s there. She’s not young, this River in front of him, but she is still in Stormcage. She’s not like the last one he’d come across. That one hadn’t even caught onto his presence until he’d announced himself with an armful of gifts and at full volume. Young River takes in his accustomed grandeur with a wicked delight and even lets him carry out his doting the whole time they’re together. He’ll rush in with intents to sweep her off her feet and Young River will go and let him. It's cool.

He still found it so unlike her. Young River and her willingness to grant him what he wished, when he wished it. Young River… she was _new_. New in mind and spirit, bright and shiny and unmarked. Such versions are one’s he’s yet to harm so indelicately, they mark her an open book to him. Without her reserve in place there had been no holding back. Every emotion she’d hidden from him in the past he’s been introduced and long acquainted with.

His favorite to date had to be: Young River gets jealous easily. Her temper had been a ferocious one and he’d be busy testing at it any chance he got. It’s not something he’s proud of but he simply couldn’t help it. The second he was met with such a reckless abandon in his _always-steady_ and _completely-in-control_ wife he’d become instantly besotted with it. Fury had never tasted so delightful on his tongue.

As he entertains this River in front of him, at this very moment, while she blows out the single candle on her birthday cupcake he realizes he only knew so little by the time those first few Young River’s came along. She’s ever been the leader and he’s forever troubled by his inability to keep up.

 “Is there any chance you’ll tell me what you wished for?” he asks her somewhat dreamily. He sees the way her lips purse together as she tries not to smirk and then her eyes are staring back at him over the top of the cupcake she holds in her palm, gleaming pools that look straight to the heart of him.

“Most certainly not.” She answers evenly.

“Well, you should.” He urges her, tugging at a curl or two because he’s there and he can. “You’ll get it faster that way.”

“Sweetie,” says River, moving to set the cupcake aside. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure you can be counted on to get me things I want when they are things you don’t like and find morally wrong.”

He grins. “Oh, my say so or not is irrelevant, River Song. It’s your birthday and I aim to get the birthday girl what she wants.”

“Dear, me.” River scoots closer, throwing her arms around his neck and placing a simple kiss to his cheek. “Why, when you say it like that, my love, however can a birthday girl resist such intent?”

River’s next kiss is anything but a simple one and her hands very deftly dip beneath his tweed jacket, her efforts performed with years of expertise on her shoulders. She makes smart work of the rest of him until they are both lying together cramped and completely tangled up in one another on her tiny Stormcage bed, blinded by each other’s kisses and surrendering to feelings neither can bear to express with the other outside the intimacy of touch. These nights, in the state of caress, everything is spoken and received; loud and clear.

In the haze of it all the Doctor comes to find he’s not seen his wife this old in ages and he’s struck by the great divide of her. Here and now, with this Older River, she’s sweet and cozy, a perfect set. In every way, in any sense, she belongs – not to him, but to herself.

The ringlets atop her head toss every which way when desperation sets and her movements send them towards their joint purpose. He reaches a hand to tangle through them, those curls he loves so much, dipping his face into the crook of her neck and inhaling everything she is, everything they are, stuck in this fleeting moment they are allowed to call their own, holding on, while the universe tips in their favor and she comes apart in his arms.

Old, young, whether she loves him or hates him, River is River. She’s River when she knows everything and she is River when she knows nothing at all. She will always only be his River.

“Here.” The Doctor reaches for her hand after, when they're lying together in the quiet. He kisses her palm before setting it atop his chest, right over one of his hearts. Then, he does the same to her other hand. 

 “They’re yours” he tells her. “For safe keeping, eh?”

 “Are you quite sure about that?” River’s hands remain still on his skin. “You shouldn’t lone your valuables out to psychopaths, you know.”

He ignores her quip, deciding to not let her make light of the situation. He cannot give her forever but he can give her his heart. Right about now he's very set on offering up two.

 “Home is where the heart is, isn’t it?”

And she smiles the smile that speaks of years gifted to him. “Always.”

“Happy birthday, Wife.” He kisses her again and her arms tug him closer.

“Welcome home, sweetie.”


End file.
